


Ember

by fourteenlines



Category: Farscape
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:55:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22261414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourteenlines/pseuds/fourteenlines
Summary: Some fires burn brightly and die quickly.  He hoped that wasn't the case for them, but he had a feeling they were out of luck.  They seemed to die more often than other people.
Relationships: John Crichton/Aeryn Sun
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Ember

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted circa 2001. Edited 2020 because why not? Set after _Fractures._. (Weren't all Farscape stories written in 2001 set after _Fractures_??)
> 
> ORIGINAL NOTES: With much thanks to Natalie - fire bad, tree pretty - and to my beta goddess, Sarah, for pointing out the rough spots.

_"I shall die, but that is all that I shall do for Death._ “ Edna St. Vincent Millay

+++

She was all austere lines and smooth hair, tightly controlled movements and careful posture, careful expressions, careful words. As they worked together to repair a console in one of Moya's lower tiers, Crais watched her with a tight feeling in his stomach.

They were finishing the job, speaking only when necessary, and he almost reached out and put a hand on her arm. Her glare caught him before he made contact with her skin. “You don’t want to..." he began. 

She looked at him, brow extended in a quelling arch.

Crais cleared his throat. This whole thing was foreign to him. "You don't want to become like your mother, Aeryn."

The question melted off her face; melted into anger. Her movements became less controlled, less careful, as she closed up the open panel and began putting away their tools.

Her reaction sent a flare of hot anger through him. "Aeryn, _listen_ to me!”

"What do you know about it, Crais?" she snapped, braid flying.

He grabbed her upper arms and spun her to face him. "I know what it's like to lose the one person you've allowed yourself to care for!” She stopped. He stopped. This was too much, too much to reveal. 

Aeryn had met Tauvo Crais only a few times, and it was all part of a life she had spent two and a half cycles forgetting. Maybe becoming what she was raised to be wasn't as easy as she'd thought.

Very quietly, Crais continued, "And I know what it is to become a monster because of it. You don't want to be like your mother, Aeryn." He let go of her arms and stalked away.

Aeryn watched him go, a hand clutched to her mouth. She sank to her knees next to the console.

+++

Three years ago, peace was an abstract idea, something to define the void of war. Now, peace was a moment long enough for two deep breaths, and if he was really lucky, silence to accompany it. Forget about leaving aside emotional turmoil, because that just wasn't going to happen.

But it was peaceful in the Center Chamber, so to speak. It left plenty of room for thinking of new and inventive ways he might die on this half-cocked mission they were heading toward. 

Chiana entered and he looked up at her. Something in his face must have told her that he hadn’t been looking for company.

"Hey, sorry. I didn't know you were in here."

"Yeah, I seem to be pretty invisible these days to a lot of people around here." His lips curled, but it was not a smile.

She gave him a sympathetic look and moved to sit across from him. "Hey," she said softly, "you've just got to give them some time. I mean, they _all_ saw you die."

John grunted. “Yeah, except _I’m right here._ ”

The Nebari woman frowned. “It’s not the same. And I think you know it.”

He shook his head and drained his drink. "I didn't want this. I don't know what I wanted, but it wasn't..."

"You didn't want him to die," she murmured.

"No!" He stood, gesturing wildly with his empty cup. "God, I didn't want him to _die_. And now he's gone, and she's here, but she might as well be somewhere else. He's dead, and it's like she's--" John stopped abruptly. He frowned, deep in thought.

"What? She's what?" Chi prompted.

"Nothing. It's — nothing." John slapped the table once, purposefully. "I've gotta go."

"Hey old man," Chiana called softly, looking up at him where he stood at the door. "It's like she's...?"

His face twitched, and he sniffed. "It's like she's dead too," he said.

She nodded. "That's what I thought. You gonna go find her?"

John shrugged. "Not sure what I'm gonna do, Chi. I need to think."

She smiled. "Yeah, well you're not much good at that."

That earned her a smile. "Shut up, Chiana." He turned and walked away down the corridor, running one hand along Moya's walls.

+++

The thing about Moya that he sometimes forgot was how byzantine her corridors could be. John hadn't the faintest idea where he was anymore. He'd lost track of time too, but he figured there were worse ways to be lost.

A year lost to Scorpius, another in the wings, and one woman so lost in her own grief she couldn't see straight. And now, what were any of them supposed to do? Some fires burn brightly and die quickly. He hoped that wasn't the case for them, but he had a feeling they were out of luck. They seemed to die more often than other people. 

A faint sound caught his attention farther down the corridor. Maybe he wasn’t as lost as he thought. But as he drew nearer, as the source of the sound revealed itself, he thought he might have to revise that opinion.

Aeryn’s back was to the door, curled up against a console. At first he was horrified to think that he’d come across her crying, which seemed like it would do more harm than good, all things considered. But she stilled as she sensed him, followed by a slight shudder as she hiccupped - that’s what the sound was - and he allowed himself a rueful grin.

When he didn't speak, she cleared her throat softly. "Go away."

He ignored it and was silent a moment longer. "Guess I can't scare you," he observed.

Aeryn turned toward him, irritated. "What?"

"Scare the hiccups away. That always worked best for me."

She squinted her eyes against his annoying ability to be so exactly _him_. "The what?" she asked in spite of herself.

"Hiccups. That spasm you've got going on there." He pointed as she hiccupped again. "Have you tried holding your breath?"

She laughed bitterly. "Yes," she said, and she wasn't talking about hiccups.

John sniffed and looked at the floor. "How'd ya get 'em? Crying?"

Her face closed off again, and she turned her back. "Go away."

She coughed, trying to rid herself of the nuisance, and didn't hear him approach her. "Hey, Aeryn," he called, standing right above her.

Aeryn turned to find his pulse gun aimed point-blank at her face. She gasped, and he smiled, backing off and gesturing. "Safety's on." Holstering the pistol, he waited patiently as she stared at him in confusion. After several moments passed in silence, he crouched down next to her. "Told ya it'd work."

Understanding registered on her face and she took a few experimental breaths. "Thanks," she said, "now go away."

John sighed, sinking to the floor beside her. He chewed on his thumb and waited for her to react.

He didn't have to wait long. She felt him staring at her for barely a moment before she turned and glared. "You're not gone."

Wisely choosing to refrain from pointing out that no, in fact, he's _not_ gone, John shrugged. "I'll go in a minute. But first I wanted to tell you a story."

"A story." She snorted, tightening her jaw.

"Yeah, about this girl I knew." She stared at him blankly. He sighed again.

"So, I knew this girl once," he began. "No, that's not fair to her. I knew this woman once...she was beautiful. Long black hair, eyes like mirrors, and she could kick me halfway across the room without breaking a sweat." Aeryn rolled her eyes and turned her head away from him. "And she was amazing," he continued softly. "And I loved her, and I was pretty sure she loved me back. And then one day..." His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. "One day, in order to save me, and our friends...in order to save me from a fate _worse_ than death...she gave up her life." Slowly, Aeryn's forehead crumpled, and she pressed her fingers to her face. John's voice got very quiet. "She died, and it was my fault. After that...nothing mattered anymore. The universe was just...big, and blank, and lonely." He dusted his hands on his pants as he stood, wanting to touch her. His hand hovered near her hair, but did not descend. "I'm sorry it hurts. God knows I'm sorry that I can't help you with this." He turned to go, pausing at the door to say, "But don't think I don't know, Aeryn. Don't think I don't know."

His boots sounded in the hall once, twice, three times before she spoke. "John?" Her voice was shaky, and she had to breathe deeply. His footsteps stopped, then came towards her again.

"Yeah?" he asked, poking his head in the door.

She looked at him, really looked at him, her chin jutting out. "I'd do it again, if I had to."

He nodded, a knowing light in his eyes. “I’m sure I would too." The words fell heavily between them. He looked down at his boots. “Aeryn. I’ll admit the possibility that you're right. That it's — easier — not to get hurt." John glanced at her through hooded lids. "But I don't want to live like that." He pushed off from the doorway again. “Well, I’ll leave you to it,” he said.

Her voice stopped him a second time. “Wait.” She steeled herself and said, “I’m done here. I’ll walk back with you.”

“Well that is great news,” he said, “because I am pretty sure I’m lost.” It both was and wasn’t a joke, but it left her room to breathe. Something sparked within, an ember struggling toward ignition. She forced herself to laugh at him. It sounded like a rusty engine. 

“You are hopeless,” she said, not quite fondly.

He shook his head. “No. Not that. Never that.”

They walked in silence back to the others.


End file.
